She is out of town working for a week or two. But she’s got to have some kind of hare-brained idea.
But it goes straight to voicemail. “Hey, Daphne, I know you’re probably working.” I glance over at the clock. It’s almost six. Shouldn’t she be off by now? “Or eating dinner or whatever, but . . . call me when you can. I have to complete the next task in a week, and I need Graham, and he’s gone, he’s not replying to my texts, and I’m not sure what to do.”
I hang up and toss my phone on the bed.
It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be fine. Graham is going to reply eventually. He has to.
It’s not going to be okay.
“Today’s the big day!” Audrey bounces on the stage, moving through a series of perfect plié jumps like she’s warming up for a performance instead of a children’s dance class. “I’m excited. Aren’t you excited?” She’s wearing bright pink, skintight leggings and a black crop top.
I’m in black leggings and an oversized T-shirt. I managed to rustle up an old pair of tap shoes from the back of Beverly’s guest closet where she kept some of her old costumes and dance gear.
I’m ready for the class, even if I’m not as fashionable as Audrey. Prepped, dressed, warmed up. The music is queued and the kids will be here any minute.
But I haven’t been able to reach Graham.
I’ve been driving by his house every day. He’s not home. I’ve been calling and texting like we had a one-night stand and I’ve missed my period.
I even texted Noah a few days ago to see if he knew anything, and he never replied either.
Even Daphne has been ducking my calls. It’s like I have the phone plague.
My phone is working. Mother has been calling, but she’s the last person I want to talk to.
Audrey insists Mother is still in LA and won’t leave because of her botched fillers, and that she’s not telling Mother anything, but I don’t believe her, and I’m balancing on a razor’s edge, just waiting to drop off one side or be sliced up the middle when the woman inevitably makes an appearance and does her best to ruin everything.
It’s what she’s good at.
I had to schedule the class because I was running out of time. The deadline is tomorrow. I waited until the last possible day, hoping he would show.
Audrey eyes me, and her smile droops. “Why aren’t you more excited? Aren’t you the one who wanted to do this in the first place? You’ve been preparing all week.”
“Yes. I’m super excited.” Except I can’t complete the task without Graham. And he’s not here. And she doesn’t understand why, and I can’t tell her.
My phone dings.
My heart leaps.
I whip my phone from my pocket so fast it almost flies out of my fingers. I stare down at my screen, stomach sinking as I scroll.
It’s not Graham. It’s Noah the squash teen.
* * *
Hey Noah, when is your next squash delivery to Graham?
* * *
My eyes trace over the last message I sent him, three days ago.
* * *
Not until next month. He’s out of town.
* * *
Shit. Shit shit shit. He’s out of town for a month? He’s a recluse who never leaves home. Why is he changing his entire personality right when I need him to be home? I’m still processing when the doors to the gym burst open. Noise floods the space, voices, laughter, the thud of boots and sneakers against the floor.
